Queerbot: New alums have to create safe spaces outside CU walls

As I prepare to graduate in a few weeks, I’ve been reflecting on one of the main protests raised at a recent Safe Space Forum on campus: Safe spaces do not prepare members of the LGBTQ community for the real world. Upon graduation, a queer alum may wake up and find that her time at Columbia was nothing but a liberal utopian wet dream.

On campus, safe spaces provided by LGBTQ student groups can set up ground rules for conversation and conduct that allow LGBTQ students to feel comfortable being themselves, but will these same students stop feeling safe once they enter the real world?

Part of what safe spaces do is implement baseline practices of respect for others’ identities, like not assuming that everyone is straight and identifies with their apparent gender. It’s true that such practices of respect aren’t universal, although both individuals and institutions are making a difference. I’m lucky to have accepted a job with a company that consistently ranks as a top workplace to be LGBTQ. Some companies have workplace antidiscrimination policies that include sexual and gender identities. Some also pay same-partner benefits, even if many state and federal laws are woefully lacking.

Many companies have active LGBTQ employee groups, and a few have safe space campaigns similar to the pink-flyer campaign carried out by Everyone Allied Against Homophobia at Columbia.

Even so, many LGBTQ professionals feel apprehensive about coming out at work—after all, personal attitudes of co-workers are hard to legislate. Depending on where one works, many of one’s co-workers or clients may be of an older generation, or the culture of one’s workplace may be more conservative.

Some queer or trans individuals figure it will be simpler or more professional to stay in the closet. Greg*, for example, worried that if his co-workers found out his partner Jordan was also male, “Their minds would jump immediately to sex.”

Although Greg is an executive at an extremely gay-friendly firm, for many years, he played the pronoun game when asked about his personal life. Greg leaned on Jordan’s gender-neutral name and went to circuitous lengths to avoid using pronouns when talking about him, i.e. “When Jordan was buying Jordan’s first car, Jordan went to a place that Jordan’s friend had recommended.” Greg came out only after he found out that his employees had an ongoing contest among themselves to get him to produce the most convoluted sentence.

It’s nearly impossible not to talk about one’s personal life at work—generally, people like to know that they are doing business with human beings. Co-workers ask questions about each others’ lives outside of work. At my internship at MTV this semester, I was struck by how break-room conversations were both extremely inclusive and incredibly mundane. As it turns out, queer or straight, everyone’s significant other’s family has a cat or a dog that is either super cute or completely psycho.

In order to foster a more inclusive atmosphere in the workplace, individuals would be wise to employ some of the same practices used in Columbia’s safe spaces. For example, use gender neutral language when prying into a co-worker’s life—“Are you seeing anyone special?” as opposed to “Do you have a boyfriend?” Although this may seem like an insignificant trick of language, it makes a big difference. It’s extremely difficult to respond with something along the lines of “Actually, I have a girlfriend,” especially when unsure of the opinions and attitudes of the co-worker who asked.

During Chinese classes I’ve taken at Columbia, I’ve watched gay classmates make up imaginary significant others of the opposite gender rather than correct their teachers’ assumptions. Heteronormative and gender normative conversations can place similar pressures on LGBTQ individuals in real life, and ambition can motivate even the most self-assured LGBTQ professional to hide his personal life. But a team is more productive when everyone can relax and talk about his boyfriend’s mom’s lunatic chihuahua without fear. Basic considerations can go a long way in helping everyone feel comfortable.

At Columbia and in the world beyond, it is individuals who create safe spaces, who learn and share standards of respect for others wherever they go. In the Columbia queer community, I have worked to build safe spaces on the fly, to frame difficult discussions in terms of respect. My Columbia co-workers have taught me well. Graduation does not scare me.

*All names changed.

Lucy Sun is a Columbia College senior majoring in economics. Queerbot runs alternate Fridays.